'Whose is it?' she asked with wide eyes.
'Yours. I had it delivered to my office yesterday when I saw your old one wasn't waterproof.'
'I don't want it.'
His eyes darkened impatiently. 'Stop being such a fool!'
'I can't accept it.'
'If you don't want to wear it then go naked,' he said callously. 'Everything you had was ruined after yesterday's rain. You'll need a whole new wardrobe anyway. You're my wife now and you'll dress like it.'
Kathryn was quivering. 'I won't be bought, Logan. Please, just go away and leave me alone.'
He grasped her shoulders and hauled her up from' the bed, furiously holding her in front of him with the blanket tangled between them. 'I've finally reached the end of my patience, Kathryn. You're already mine, I don't have to buy you.' His face was very close to hers and his eyes suddenly dropped to her mouth. His grip lessened and with a muffled groan he turned away from her. 'Put the coat on—now! Don't make me do it for you.'
She shuddered, wavering, then quickly wrapped herself in it before he turned back to her, his eyes twin blue flames.
'We can't go on like this.' He tried to contain his anger. 'You're fighting me at every turn. I wasn't trying to buy you—I know you better than that. You simply need some new things, and now I'm in a position to get them for you.' He raked a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and letting it out harshly. 'We'll go home and talk like two civilised people. This is no place to do it.'
She grimaced and looked past him, not seeing the dust that lay thick on the old-fashioned dressing-table. Her eyes were blind to the faded flowers on the wallpaper and the thin worn curtains at the grimy windows. All she could see was her aunt's gentle lined face full of love and concern. This house was her refuge. This had been the only place where she had been truly happy. 'Let me stay here—please! This can be my home.'
'Are you out of your mind?' he demanded.
'I don't want to live in your house, Logan. I don't belong there.' Her eyes were huge and pleading.
'You don't know what you're saying.'
'Please, please don't make me go back!' Her voice wobbled.
Logan lost his patience again, gripping her arms in the warm coat savagely and bringing her up close to face him. 'You can't stay here. This house is in the hands of a lawyer waiting to be sold.'
'Sold?' she whispered. 'Who would dare to sell it?'
'I dare.'
'But you have no right!'
'I have every right. I took care of Miriam for months before she died. Who do you think paid for her doctor's bills, her medicine and hospital costs?' Flinty blue eyes hardened to narrow slits. 'Who do you think buried her?' he said ever so softly.
Kathryn trembled, gasping. 'Was the cost of her care so much?'
'It was enough. With the sale of her house, I should get it all back.'
'It all comes down to money with you, doesn't it? The mighty, the wealthy Logan Ramsey!' Scorn dripped from her. 'You have no right to sell this house!'
'Don't talk to me of rights, Kathryn.' He strained her closer to him, holding her in a fierce embrace. 'You're Mrs Logan Ramsey now, and I might just start demanding some of the rights that go with that name.' He tilted his dark head towards the bed. 'You were willing enough to share it last night, reaching out to me when you were so cold and lost and broken.'
'I didn't know it was you!'
'Everything changes in the cold light of day, doesn't it?' Logan sighed resignedly and let her go. 'Even though we're married, I thought we could be friends, but you insist on facing me across some kind of barrier you've erected.' He dragged in a harsh breath. 'All right, I'll respect that barrier. I won't attempt to cross it. You can tear it down all by yourself when the time is right. Come home with me now and be my son's mother. That's all I ask of you—nothing more, nothing less.'
Logan was true to his word. When they went back to his beautiful mansion set in the distant shadow of pine-strewn mountains, Kathryn became Jon's mother, not Logan's wife.
It was a completely different way of life for her in this wildly beautiful region of British Columbia, and as winter turned into spring, she managed to relax and eventually fell into a contented routine. She even gained a few pounds and her skin bloomed with healthy colour. Jon was an undemanding child, eager to please and always grinning, sharing his childish secrets and letting her fill the empty places in his heart.
Her mornings were spent getting to know Emma Gresham, familiarising herself with the spacious house and badgering the housekeeper to let her help with at least a smattering of the housework. Her afternoons were devoted entirely to Jon, most often tramping through the lush greenery surrounding the house, discovering such delights as wildflowers and hidden violets and the spidery tracks of inquisitive animals. The immaculate rolling lawns were edged by a gurgling steam on one side and a forest teeming with wildlife on the other. And forming a spectacular backdrop behind it all were the rugged peaks of the perpetually blue Coast Range Mountains.
When Logan came home from work in the evenings, it was easy enough to escape to some other part of the house and allow him time alone with his son before Jon's bedtime. He insisted that they dine together each night, and they did so, silently, in the huge formal dining room, with Logan always looking impeccable in his exquisite dinner jackets and frilled shirts, while Kathryn sat selfconsciously proud in her hopelessly plain cotton dresses.
Only once did Logan again repeat his offer to buy her a new wardrobe, but she sent him such a withering look that he regretted the impulse. At first his lips were tight each time he saw her in her own clothes and a small muscle jerked violently in his jaw, but lately his whole manner was changing to one of bland indifference. He didn't even seem to notice her any more. She wondered if it was all an act—and then one night she had her answer.
When their eyes happened to meet and cling across the table, she caught a look of hungry intensity in his before a shutter swiftly closed over them, effectively shutting her out. But it gave her no satisfaction to know he still desired her, even though she had defied him and refused the things he offered. He had betrayed her, and she couldn't forgive him for that. Each night when she fell into bed she would lie for hours staring at the ceiling, a terrible aching emptiness deep inside her. What she was doing to Logan wasn't fair, but what he had done to her was unforgivable.
'Kathryn?' Emma Gresham stopped her at the front door when she and Jon came in from a walk in the forest one warm afternoon towards the end of May. 'Logan rang. He won't be home for dinner again this evening.'
'Daddy's never home any more!' Jon wailed.
'It's all right, dear,' said Kathryn with a small white smile. 'Daddy's work is very important to him.' She looked at Emma. 'I suppose he had to work late? That's the classic excuse, isn't it?'
The woman's eyes filled with pity. 'That's what he said,' she murmured.
Kathryn ignored the strange pain quivering through her. 'Well then, how about all of us eating our dinner in the kitchen tonight? No sense going to the trouble of using the dining room. May we, Emma?'
'But—I've tried to make you understand. The lady of the house never eats in the kitchen. It just isn't done.'
'You should know by now I can't play the part of a lady.' Kathryn smiled ruefully and looked down at her jeans. 'I wouldn't even begin to know how. Besides, Jon and I feel more comfortable in there, don't we, Jon?'
He grinned. 'It's nice in the kitchen, and that's where you make cookies.'
Emma beamed at him, then looked at her with a small frown. 'You're nothing like your sister was,' she commented.
'You knew Carol?' Kathryn's eyes widened with surprise.
'Oh my, yes. Didn't Logan tell you? My George and I used to run this house years ago when Logan and Paul were growing up. George died about the same time as old Mrs Ramsey. I thought it was the end for me, but Logan married then and found room for me in the house he leased in Burnaby.'
'Burnaby? That's
quite a way from his office.'
'I know, dear, but Logan had closed this house and Carol wanted to live there.'
'What happened to his apartment? The one in Vancouver?'
'As far as I know, he still has it, but Carol wouldn't live there. It wasn't grand enough for her.'
Kathryn swallowed. 'I—didn't know.'
'Carol was a regular—' Emma caught herself just in time. 'Jon? Will you go and check to see if I latched the back door? I was in the garden earlier and I don't remember if I closed it or not.' She watched him go, then turned back to Kathryn. 'I wouldn't dream of gossiping, you know, but your sister was difficult. Nothing was ever good enough for her. Always demanding— she'd fly into a rage at the least little thing. Logan ignored it most of the time, putting it down to her condition. When he had to work late, she never believed him. She accused him of all kinds of things.' She reached out and squeezed Kathryn's shoulder gently with a compassionate smile. 'I know there's something not quite right between the two of you and now you suspect the worst of your husband. It's there in your eyes. But if Logan tells you he had to work late, you can believe him. He's an honourable man. I've known him since he was smaller than Jon, and he'd never do that to you.'
Kathryn felt herself growing cold. 'Don't worry, Emma, I'm not about to make a scene. I've seen for myself how honourable a man Logan is.' She blinked away the picture of him and Carol in the moonlight…
Surprisingly, the evening passed swiftly and Kathryn decided it wouldn't hurt to let Jon stay up a little longer past his bedtime. They were in the huge drawing room and she was standing gazing through the long French windows at the fiery rays of the dying sun. Jon came to stand silently beside her, slipping his hand into hers as the sky turned from deep blue to pink and gold and purple, turning the distant mountain peaks into shimmering jewels.
'Some day I want to paint a picture, Mom,' he said in a hushed, almost reverent voice. 'In all those beautiful colours.'
'Keep the thought, Jon,' she said, smiling down at him with all her love shining in her eyes.
'That's right, son. You can do anything if you want it badly enough.'
They both jumped at the sound of Logan's deep voice, and Kathryn's face filled with a dull red stain. The way he was leaning so indolently with his shoulder against the doorjamb suggested he had been standing there for some time just watching them, and it made her squirm uncomfortably. Hard muscles rippled across his chest under a pale yellow shirt as he held out his arms to his son. His dark slacks were trim-fitting, and for the first time in months Kathryn realised he was becoming thinner.
'Daddy!' Jon flung himself into his arms and was instantly crushed in a strong warm embrace. 'I thought you had to work late.'
'I did, but I got finished sooner than I expected.'
Plainly disbelieving, Kathryn turned back to the windows, barely suppressing a shiver. What had happened to his secretary? she wondered bitterly, thinking of the beautiful blonde Margaret. How did he manage to tear himself away from his 'work'?
'Shall we build a small fire, Jon? I think your mom is cold.' He stepped close to her, lifting one eyebrow as if daring her to say something. When she made a move towards the door his eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. 'Not tonight, Kathryn. You always leave when I'm around. I want you to stay with us tonight.' Then he spoke to his son, but his eyes burned at her. 'This is a rare treat for me. I never seem to be able to spend an evening with my family any more, my work usually keeps me away, but now everything's been sorted out. It's a good thing your mother is so understanding.'
'Mom always understands,' Jon boasted. 'We get to eat with Mrs Gresham in the kitchen now since you're never home. She knows I like it in there, and Mom says she likes it better too because she doesn't have to worry she'll break anything.'
Kathryn blushed hotly and turned away from Logan's raised eyebrows in embarrassment. 'Really, Jon, I don't think your daddy's at all interested.'
'Oh, but I am.' Logan grinned broadly, setting Jon on his feet. 'Tell me more—I'm all ears!'
'Mom knocked over a vase and almost broke it when she tried to help dust in here, so Mrs Gresham told her she could help with the dishes in the kitchen instead and she wouldn't have to worry about any looms.'
'Looms?'
'That's right, isn't it, Mom?' Jon frowned.
'Heirlooms,' she said through gritted teeth.
Logan looked nonplussed, then he threw his head back and laughed deep in his throat. Walking to a low rosewood table, he pointed to a cylindrical porcelain vase with a delicate bird painted in blue on a twisted branch on the side of it. Bright blue flowers surrounded the top and deep swirls representing waves or wind completed the picture. There were Chinese-looking symbols at its base. 'Is this the vase?'
Jon nodded, and Kathryn stared in horrified fascination as Logan smashed it on the floor at his feet. They both flinched and Logan grinned broadly. 'I've always hated that thing. Is there anything else you're afraid to touch?'
Before they could say a word, Emma came bustling in. 'Did I hear a crash? Oh, Kathryn! The fifteenth-century Ming!' Her horrified eyes flew upward. 'It was priceless!'
'Kathryn didn't break it, Emma. I did.' Logan chuckled. 'It's something I've wanted to do for years.'
'But you know how your mother loved it!'
'Yes, she did.' His face twisted with deep-rooted pain. 'She loved things. But things don't last, do they? When they start making a person uncomfortable in his own home, it's time to get rid of them.' His eyes made a quick sweep of the beautiful room filled with sombre paintings, heavy sculptures and vases on scattered tables, then flickered briefly over Kathryn's strained features. 'Pack up all these knick-knacks, Emma. It's time we made a clean sweep of everything in this house.'
'Knick-knacks?' The woman was scandalised. 'But what shall I do with them? This is priceless art you're talking about!'
'Art belongs in a museum,' he said with a short laugh. 'Put them in boxes and I'll give them to Paul. He might appreciate them. They don't belong here any more.'
Kathryn coloured painfully as she bent to help Emma gather up the broken bits of smashed porcelain. The sharp sting of his words went straight to her heart. She had no idea this was Ming. If she had known anything about art, she would have realised it. But she was hopelessly ignorant. Logan was right. All these things didn't belong where she wouldn't appreciate them.
After Emma had swept up the pieces and left the room muttering to herself, Kathryn sat at one end of the silk damask sofa in front of the dark marble fireplace and watched Logan explain to Jon how to place the logs to ensure a small cosy glow rather than a blazing fire. He fanned the embers, then stood and rested his forearm on the mantelpiece. Jon wanted to do the same, but he wasn't tall enough, and his mouth drooped.
'It's all right,' she told him when he came to sit by her. 'You'll grow, and one day you'll be just as tall as your daddy.'
'He's awful tall.'
'You will be too. Anyone can see that.'
Logan turned suddenly and his voice was oddly husky. 'Do you think Jon looks like me, Kathryn?'
'He's the image of you,' she said softly. 'Why do you ask?'
He shrugged his shoulders, but she could detect a strange tension about him. 'I just wondered how you saw him. Sometimes I think he has some of Carol's mannerisms, but—he's my son.' He stressed the 'my' ever so softly, and she shivered without knowing why.
'Was there ever any doubt?'
His face changed, but his eyes continued to burn with a strange intensity. 'No. Never.' He came to the sofa and lifted Jon high in his arms. 'My son! Tomorrow's a special day for you.'
'I know, Daddy,' the little boy squealed. 'Mrs Gresham told Mom and me tonight because she didn't think you'd remember. I'm going to be five. I'm growing up!'
'She was wrong to think I'd forget,' Logan said softly, holding him close. 'And as usual, your Uncle Paul is coming home too. He wanted to be sure not to miss your day.'
'Uncle Paul is n
ice,' Jon said with a sudden return to the solemn expression they hadn't seen in months, 'but he isn't as nice as you, Daddy.' He wiggled out of his arms and curled up beside Kathryn, clinging to her.
'What is it, Jon? Is something wrong?'
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. She looked from him to Logan and back again. There was something here, but for the life of her she didn't know what it was.
'Come along, dear,' she said soothingly. 'It's past your bedtime. Give Daddy a kiss goodnight.'
He did so at once, surprising her by his ready acceptance. Kathryn noticed too that Logan had become oddly restless. She didn't understand any of the strange undercurrents that were suddenly making themselves felt in the room. When she reached the door she glanced back and saw Logan staring into the fire with his shoulders hunched forward and a curious wintry bleakness settling over his handsome face.
After settling Jon she didn't relish the thought of spending the rest of the evening in Logan's company, especially in this strange mood of his, so she slipped on a thick red sweater and silently left the house.
The air was cool and still, a full moon darting in and out of dark ribbon-like clouds, but she found her way down the path without any difficulty. She went through the garden Jon had helped Mrs Gresham plant and saw the tiny shoots beginning to poke through the soil. Walking towards a slight hill far from the house, she looked up at a row of huge pine trees silvery in the moonlight. Her face was lifted past them towards the evening sky and she closed her eyes, letting the peace and tranquillity wash over her. She stood quite still for . a long time lost in a star-spangled silence as the moonlight played over her. Unbidden, thoughts of Logan filled her mind. But this time it was not the picture of him and Carol she saw. It was herself with him, and suddenly her eyes flew open in alarm. When had she started to think like that? She swallowed and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to suppress a shudder. Don't let me love him again, she prayed. Love means loss and betrayal and unbearable pain.
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